I Hate My Bed

It's now been 11 days since my surgery and I've been home for just over a week. I find it amusing what my pre-surgery self thought I'd be doing right now: Meeting with friends, going for walks, returning to The Mustard Seed, working, etc. The reality is that I've barely been out of the house since I came home and I have spent way too much time in bed. For the first few days after I came home, I could only stand for 5-10 minutes before I became dizzy and nauseous, and had to return to bed. Each night was torture as I tried to get comfortable sleeping on my back, only to awake with stiff insides and a sore back.

I spent most of my time in the hospital doing number puzzles, grew tired of those, have now memorized the TV schedule, grown bored with the drivel on the screen, and I still won't be able to go for a good walk for at least another week, and running or lifting weights is at least a month away. I dread the dusk turning into night, as I face another uncomfortable sojourn with pillows piled all around.

But I am optimistic; I feel better than I did just a couple of days ago, I have minimal pain, I can laugh at my frozen and swollen stomach, and I know I'll be returning to normal life soon.

And on top of all that, I am thankful for our knowledgable doctors and access to great healthcare. We live in a wonderful country and we are so blessed.

So, even though I hate my bed, I thank God every day that I have a bed, and a house around it, and I am healthy and strong.

Sarah Wallace

Today I had the privilege of meeting the Great Sarah Wallace, who moved to Haiti in 2008 to start a clinic that would help provide prenatal and birth care to the local women. I have been awe-inspired by her story - she is so young (maybe mid to late 20's, if that), but seems to be so wise. Hearing her speak was like listening to a well-versed missionary - she spoke the facts, and her goals, and listening to her, I fully believe that her goals will be met.

Sarah is a bit of a legend at our church, the granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs Bailey, and I have followed her blog in the last year or so, and last month was asked to help out a bit on the bookkeeping side of the organization. After speaking to my sister while we were in Victoria, she explained that so many of these small charities are in desperate need for someone with a particular skill set to organize the numbers and comply with Canada Revenue Agency. I guess I take my skill set for granted, since numbers have been an integral part of my brain as far back as I can remember. While I understand that many people have trouble with numbers and keeping books, I just can't understand why, since it makes too much sense to me!

Lately I've been longing to do something to help those who are less fortunate, maybe The Call has become so strong now that I just can't ignore it anymore. But where to help? There are so many needs, how will I know whether I have picked the correct one?

As my sister said, having just returned from the Phillipines where she witnessed people living in garbage dumps and pushing each other aside for a small bowl of pasty grub, we can't believe that we were just lucky enough to be born here and they were unlucky enough to be born there. It's our duty as Christ's children to help His other children.

So why are we sitting around watching reality TV, eating fast food and twittering our lives away?

Rain, Pain and Shania Twain

You sit and stare out at the sky
And think of ways to fake a smile
But life is never what it seems
Sometimes it only takes a while

I'm in the way of falling down
I won't let you go that far now

If you think that hope was left behind
I picked it up a mile ago
And I am running close behind
So don't give up and don't let go

This was the song that ended my run this morning, good ol' Jars of Clay, a run full of reflection on this second day of July. Where has the time gone? It seems as if the last six months have been a blur, and I can hardly remember them.

I was watching a documentary on Shania Twain yesterday as I was folding clothes, getting ready to go to Victoria, and it was tough watching this brilliant superstar be stripped down and confessing her pain over her broken marriage and a friend's betrayal. She reminded me of me, saying, "I just want to yell at myself to GET OVER IT!", and she won't cry, and she won't talk, and holds it all in. Boy oh boy that can it away at your insides. For her, she lost her voice, and for me, I lost all hope that life could ever be good again. Why do anything positive when tragedy could just be around the corner?

But she also said something that stuck with me, "I realize that I have these scars and I have to learn how to live with them." Gee, people live with scars far worse than mine, and somehow they get through it and carry on with life. Does it help to wallow in self pity, eat myself into oblivion, and make decide to never build myself up again because sooner or later, something is going to send me crashing down?

And so I have to just live with these scars, acknowledge them, and move on. I'm sure there will be more tough times ahead - that's what life is all about, but I need to remind myself over and over: He's in the way of falling down, and He won't let me go far.